


Curiosity

by muse_oleum



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, P&P, Sex, THAT bath scene is totally to blame, What Ifs, Y'all can figure out the rest, darcy has skilled fingers and i won't take any criticism, mature audiences, mature content, p&p1995 sorry i'm a purist, pride & prejudice, pride & prejudice 1995, you are so welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_oleum/pseuds/muse_oleum
Summary: Elizabeth accidentally walks in on Mr Darcy minding his own business... in the bath. She's naturally curious and so, obviously hasa thing or two to investigate.Post-events of the book/series but set before the wedding. Literally just an excuse for some mature yet tasteful Darcy/Lizzie sexy time.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely based on *that* bath scene in p&p 1995/inspired by an excellent fanfic you can find on FFNET called "Mr Darcy's Bathing Beauty." If you're a Darcy/Lizzie thirst hellion like me and you haven't read it... you're missing out. A lot. I shamelessly stole the idea of a love letter from the author as I didn't have any clue how to put Lizzie in quite such a compromising position otherwise. Letters, it seems, are a great conduit to a lovers' tryst.
> 
> Takes a while to get to the salacious portion of this fic but I'm fairly sure you're going to enjoy it. I just always take 2000 years to set the scene *just* right. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Jane Austen would be absolutely horrified by what I make her characters do but that's where self-restraint and curiosity will lead you and I will die on that hill.

One week seemed such an extraordinarily long time to two people in love.

Seven more days of furtive touches, hands brushing, and stolen kisses. Darcy was fairly certain his soon-to-be in laws had decided, based on his more elevated birth, to observe propriety more assiduously than he had ever seen them before. Finding a moment alone with Elizabeth had been a constant game of hide-and-seek, weekly planning and stealth. More than once, they had nearly been caught unawares, so utterly engrossed were they in the other and only by the grace of God had he not been caught actively compromising her.

He had therefore decided, after Bingley had fairly and squarely stumbled upon them kissing in an alleyway behind Netherfield, that in order to preserve his sanity he absolutely had to keep his hands and lips off her lovely person.

Bingley, sharing much the same affliction, had wisely refrained from commenting. Jane Bennet and him, of a naturally less intense disposition, seemed to be getting on just fine with the long engagement. It completely baffled Darcy.

In one week he would wed Elizabeth. He would be hers and she would be his. And if anybody objected to lapses of propriety after that, they were very welcome to never set a foot inside their home, ever again.

Business had unexpectedly called him to town, a neat coincidence since Georgiana had absolutely refused to wait any longer before seeing her soon-to-be sister again. She had been positively gushing the whole way back, enumerating Elizabeth’s many virtues (which Darcy would never again dispute), and how happy she was at gaining such a sister. Maliciously, she mentioned Caroline Bingley’s name once or twice, trying (and succeeding) to goad him into a playful mood.

He had been more taciturn than was his wont, simultaneously happy to have concluded business so swiftly, being able to chaperone his little sister as she journeyed to Hertfordshire, and missing Elizabeth. 

Bingley was hosting a dinner in honor of their brides this evening, quite cleverly only inviting the Lucases and the Bennet family, since they were so close. The ball given the day before the wedding was to take place would make sure to soothe the feelings of the remaining three-and-twenty families who had not been invited. Darcy was secretly amazed with his friend’s shrewdness, beginning to wonder if he had not underestimated Bingley. It would hardly be a new sensation.

As he settled himself into a comfortable chair in the library, awaiting the arrival of their guests, he half-smiled as he contemplated just how instrumental his Elizabeth had been in pointing out where he had erred as a friend. He also now understood where he had erred as a brother, if not as a guardian. As a guardian, he had been everything expected of him but as a brother, he fell short. He had been more of a father to Georgiana, when what she really needed was a brother she could talk to, much the same way she had been teasing him on the way from London.

He had learnt so much, all thanks to this one incredible woman.

His head snapped up from his book when he heard the telltale sound of carriages arriving. He was immediately tempted to espy her from the window, but her remonstrances echoed in his mind. He still had to work on his social interactions, he knew, but surely she would not take his staring in any negative light now that he had so thoroughly demonstrated how devoted he was.

He heard Bingley practically hurl himself out of the door, the sole of his shoes whistling on the polished floor as he nearly face planted into the wall. Darcy’s loud snort did not escape him. He shot him as withering a look as Charles Bingley would ever manage, with only made Darcy laugh louder. In a mocking display of courtesy, he held the door open for his friend, sliding him a comment about minding the wall.

Darcy was fairly sure that, if looks could kill, he would be a small pile of ashes on the frozen ground.

Elizabeth alighted, wearing a simple coat over one of her ivory gowns, which he recognized as the one she had worn at the Meryton assembly, more than a year or so ago. He had always been fond of that gown, not least because of the way it swooped in a very flattering (and utterly distracting) way at the neckline. The color suited her creamy skin perfectly.

The flush that immediately colored her cheeks told him his open appraisal had not gone unnoticed. He remembered, somewhere in the back of his mind that her father was also present this evening. He would have to behave himself.

Later, Darcy would own that he had not been the one misbehaving, not in this particular instance, anyway.

♞♞♞

Dinner passed quickly and as smoothly as possible with Mrs Bennet’s incessant chatter revolving around the double-wedding. Her nerves, Darcy wagered, had been frayed to the utmost and would relish losing two daughters to two most eligible gentlemen Saturday next. He almost pitied the gossiping mamas of Meryton who would no doubt never hear the end of it. Taking a sip of his wine, he wondered idly just _where_ she got her energy from. He had thought Elizabeth strictly her father’s daughter but it seemed she inherited her boundless energy from her mother, a fact he had hitherto not considered and which drew a chuckle from him.

Smiling at him from behind her napkin, Elizabeth leaned in towards him, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes.

« I’m afraid Mama is on her best behavior tonight. She has not yet started on the subject of your fortune but I am sure that is soon incoming. »

As if on cue, Mrs Bennet turned towards the two of them, smiling broadly. Darcy, momentarily cowed, noticed for the first time her beauty. To be sure, she had been pretty in her youth, luring Mr Bennet into a stable, if heir-less marriage. He wouldn’t have been the first man swept in by a lady’s looks only. Darcy eyed his friend, seated at the top of the table, Jane by his right side. Bingley too had, once upon a time or two, fallen in love with a beautiful heiress whose only talent, faithfully trained by her mama, was to secure an advantageous match for her family.

The topic brought forward remembrance of a most pleasant walk during which himself and Elizabeth had been discussing the subject of ladies and their accomplishments. She had protested that he was far too hard on young ladies in general: after all, their only value, according to society, was in their success on the marriage mart.

Women more so than men, moved between classes through marriage, securing peace, stability and, of course, prosperity, for their families. He had let her speak. After all, what did he know of the pressures of being a genteel young lady? He tried his best to bring one up, true, but he had learnt the hard way that this hardly made him the all-knowing entity on the subject.

« … in short, our value comes from our bodies, not our brains. We are tokens, vessels traveling from one family to another. Matters of the heart and mind are of no consequence so long as we succeed in fostering our family’s advancement in society. »

He had smirked then, casting one glance over at her. Her arm was woven through his, her hands clasped on his upper arm. He could not feel her weight at all as she almost skipped happily by his side, clearly engaged in their conversation. Her hair escaped in tight curls from under her bonnet. He wanted to take the damnable thing off of her. It was truly remarkable how Elizabeth simply saying certain words could rouse his passion. Part of him was frightened at the power she seemed to hold over him. The greater part of him, however, was thrilled.

He had stopped them, turning sharply towards a tree off the beaten path. They did not tend to stray too far from Longbourn, especially when her mother conveniently forgot to chaperone them. Darcy, ever the gentleman, would usually politely ask one of Elizabeth’s sisters to accompany them but on this one occasion, none had wanted to venture outdoors in the cold November air.

Just this once, he did not mind.

Elizabeth eyes widened when she realized just what he intended. Her cheeks, already flushed pink by the cold, reddened further. He found it immensely endearing when his Elizabeth blushed. It became her. She had pale skin, soft to the touch, brightened by her extraordinary eyes. He had never seen eyes like this. He had seen them turn from green to grey, and there were tiny specks of blue and brown in her irises.

By nature, Darcy was not a man who ignored propriety. It had been one of his strongest principles. Until he met Elizabeth Bennet, who scattered his principles to the four winds, alongside the broken pieces of his heart. He had found it much easier to recover those pieces while his principles were still off gallivanting somewhere in Derbyshire.

Refusing to push her, he took her gloved hands and kissed each fingers, his eyes never leaving hers. She breathed rapidly, shooting anxious glances to the road behind them. He drew her closer and she melted easily into his body, drawn to his warmth. Slowly, he nuzzled her nose, dropping a tender kiss on the corner of her mouth.

« Apart from us dearest, no one is mad enough to be outside in the cold. »

That seemed to relax her as she burrowed closer to him, her hands sliding under his great coat lapels. The air seemed a little warmer at having her tucked so close to him. She surprised him then, planting these eyes into his, raising onto her toes and softly kissing his lips.

He had planned to take his time before stealing a kiss from her, conscious as he was of her inexperience. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that drawing out the pleasure made the reward that much sweeter. But the moment her lips touched his, he forgot all about propriety. He leaned in as she broke the kiss, searching for her lips as she softly tugged him with her. He cradled her neck before her back hit the tree behind them.

Of the kisses they had shared, a precious few number, each a treasured memory that Darcy stored in a corner of his mind, this one had been the most heated. Emboldened by the deserted road and the chill of the air, she had seemed to melt into his body. He had welcomed her in his arms, almost crushing her to his chest. Despite the many layers of clothing that separated them, he could feel every intake of breath as her chest brushed against his; every tingle of her hair on his cheeks; every caress of her hands on his neck.

He had allowed himself the glorious liberty of trailing kisses down the side of her neck, shifting the heavy scarf and coat to the side. She had gasped as he very deliberately kissed the soft skin under her ear, letting his tongue brush softly around her ear lobe. She had tried to tug him even closer and he had only held his own because of his greater strength. His brain had been far too clouded by desire to process things. Only when her thigh had brushed against his own, barely grazing at the evidence of his desire for her, had he abruptly pulled away.

Forcibly bringing himself back to the present moment, Darcy could feel the very same desire already steadily building against his breeches. He sent a fervent prayer to the Lord for deciding to wear dark breeches. He had learnt, since falling in love with Elizabeth, that dark breeches were a must around her, as she was quite capable of arousing him at any moment.

« Dearest? » Her sweet voice, laced with concern, turned his mind away from more carnal deliberations.

He smiled at her, quite unable to speak, and squeezed her hand on the table. He was very aware of both Miss Bingley’s murderous glare and Mrs Bennet’s victorious smile. Mr Bennet had judgedit very ill-advised to dwell not he subject of his favorite daughter’s marriage and therefore studiously avoided looking at the pair. Bingley and Jane were completely oblivious to everything that was not each other and, for once, Darcy wholeheartedly understood why.

« I say, it looks as if snow has decided to make its appearance at last! » said Lady Lucas, pointing her wine glass to the window.

Momentary panic flashed across the engaged couples’ faces. Snow meant that they would no doubt have to cut their evening short. Darcy’s face fairly fell and Georgiana laughed into her napkin. She had not missed the loving exchange between her brother and his betrothed. She was overjoyed that he had found not only company, but the love of a woman. Her sibling, in her opinion, had always been far too lonely.

Not wanting to miss out on an evening in Jane’s company, Bingley, as the host, was the best placed to voice what they were all thinking.

« After dinner, those who wish to order their carriage are perfectly welcome to do so but I do hope it will not be an imposition if the Miss Bennets stay on a little longer? We always have rooms at their disposal. » He smiled widely at Jane, who blushed in return, lowering her gaze.

Kitty very nearly giggled.

Mrs Bennet speedily answered that it was a most manageable solution, effectively silencing her husband with a murderous side-eye that even Darcy had to acknowledge was petrifying.

He had never before felt such affection for his future mother-in-law but he was certain he could have kissed her.

And so, after an hour of entertainment during which Maria Lucas and Kitty made sure to keep the party apprised of each and every snowflake, the Lucases and Bennets, with the exception of Elizabeth and Jane, took their leave. Bingley positively glowed, basking in Jane’s attention as she praised his clever scheme. Elizabeth was secretly very pleased with this arrangement too. Ever since their walk in the snow the previous week, she had been positively lusting after her intended.

Ever since she had fallen in love with him, she had taken a certain interest in novels and books that any self-respecting maiden never even thought about. Lizzie had wisely decided not to ponder _how_ these specific volumes had found their way to her father’s library. She had learnt as much as she was going to by reading, remembering the way her toes curled into her bedsheets as she devoured each book from the safety of her own room. She had, very innocently, left one such novel in Jane’s room, hoping her sister might also learn a thing or two.

The evening passed quickly, as it always does when one is happily occupied. Caroline Bingley, unable to stand the way Mr Darcy looked at Miss Elizabeth, stood up to announce that she was quite tired indeed, before offering a courteous goodnight to her guests. She had already seen to the warming of their beds and drawing of hot baths in their respective rooms.

The prospect of a bath appealed greatly to Darcy, who found his desire for his betrothed only growing as the moon rose higher. The warm light of the fire reflected off her creamy skin. The low, swooping neckline of her dress did nothing to soothe his passion. She was positively delicious to behold.

He had not the faintest idea that his bride-to-be was busy pretending she was not similarly affected. She was, in fact, so much in love with him, that she had resolved to write him a sweet note and slip it in his room before readying herself from bed. It was with this idea in mind that she excused herself, doing her best to ignore the pleading look from Darcy, as he rose to kiss her hand. She looked at him in a way she hoped ignited the same feelings in him. She saw him visibly hold his breath.

She did love the way her eyes held such power over him.

Pausing only to pen the sweet words on a sheet of paper in her room, she had already dismissed the maid sent to assist her after she had helped her dress into nightclothes, generously provided by none other than Miss Bingley herself.

She stopped outside his door, listening in to see if he was already up. She doubted he would have already taken his leave and was, therefore, extremely surprised to find him relaxing in a steaming bath.

Now, that had truly taken such a very interesting turn.

_(Now we’re getting to the spicy bit, if you’re still there clap your hands. I listened to_ Fever _by Peggy Lee on repeat, should you need inspiration.)_

♞♞♞

Darcy had immediately left the drawing room after Elizabeth, living Jane and Bingley gazing into each other and damning propriety straight to hell. He was going to burst if he did not take care of himself right away. It flummoxed him just how Elizabeth could arouse him with one tilt of her graceful neck. Particularly when that neck was attached to such lovely shoulders, creamy and far too inviting.

Silently dismissing his valet, whose raise brow told him all he needed to know, he closed the door firmly behind him, heading straight for the steaming bathtub as he shed one article of clothing after the other. Lowering himself into the hot water, Darcy let out a contented sigh.

He was therefore completely startled when he heard the door open. Turning to see who it was, fully expecting his valet, his jaw dropped when he beheld none other than the very object of his desire, standing with her mouth open in surprise, a piece of paper in hand and _clothed only in her nightclothes_.

He felt his mouth run dry at the sight.

His groin gave a painful tug as he beheld her form, outlined starkly under the shimmery gauze of the material. She was wearing her dressing gown, like any proper young lady would, and, for some reason, that thought only aroused him more.

His open admiration fueled Lizzie’s confidence as she quickly held her hand to her mouth, stifling what he strongly suspected was a giggle.

She took one small step forward, closing the door behind her. He rose one eyebrow, still too stunned to speak. He heard the distinctive click of the lock and his eyebrows shot all the way up to his hairline. _Where did she get that confidence from?_ If it had been him in her position, he would have been so mortified that he would have run from the room and hid under his bed until the wedding.

But she just stood there, staring at him with her piece of paper still held to her lips. She even had the nerve to tilt her head at him and he felt more than saw her gaze sweep over him. He was suddenly very grateful for the soap bubbles.

« Well, » she cleared her throat. Her voice sounded raspy and his already rampant erection only strained further in response. « That was definitely not what I was expecting to find. »

She took shameless advantage if his speechlessness and moved forward, laying the scarp of paper on the bed. He noticed the way her fingers caressed the soft sheets and he momentarily wondered what it would feel like to have those fingers wrapped around _him_.

 _Dear God, was he jealous of his own bedsheets?_ He had truly lost it.

« I’m sorry, my love, for disturbing you. I did not hear any noise and thought you were still downstairs. I simply wanted to leave you this. »

Darcy looked at her. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

_After all, he had damned propriety straight to hell, had he not?_

Clearing his throat, he mentioned her forward. She picked up the paper and handed it to him, maintaining her distance even though he could see her lean forward with curiosity.

« Since you’re here, dearest, you might as well get closer. »

She had the grace to blush profusely. Something he had never had the privilege to notice was the way her blush diffused over her chest too. He noticed then the low cut of the nightgown, revealing the wonderful divide between her breasts. _How he wanted to kiss her there_.

_How he wanted to kiss her._

Responding to the soft pressure of his fingers on her wrist, Elizabeth lowers herself to the floor, scooting closer to the tub, careful to keep her gaze focused on his face. It was becoming harder not to notice the way his dap skin glistened in the candlelight. He had a broad chest, this much she knew, but a strong one too, by the looks of it.

His gaze softened as he read her quickly penned words of love. He carefully tucked the paper into his coat pocket, lying on the chair next to the tub.

He felt bold and let his eyes rove over her upper body. She noticed the way his eyes darkened as he took in her form. _How was it that, even being the one unclothed, he still managed to make her feel exposed?_

As if on cue, he leaned in closer to her, his eyes piercing into her as he ran his fingers down the length of her neck. When he closed in to kiss her collarbone, she obediently angled her neck towards him.

She gasped when she felt him untie the sash of her dressing gown. He smirked against her skin, nuzzling the soft skin of her shoulder, pushing the nightgown aside.

« After all, » he said, peppering the skin there with slow kisses, « it’s terribly unfair if I’m the only one with no clothes on. » He punctuated this sentence with one long sensual kiss to her lips, drawing yet another gasp from her.

She couldn’t dispute that fact.

She realized that this might be the perfect moment for her to indulge her curious side. He did not seem angry or ashamed at her being here and, in fact, seemed to terribly enjoy nipping and sucking at her skin.

She stood up, relishing in the way his hungry gaze followed her as she rounded the tub. She picked dup his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of the chair as she sat primly on it. His eyes, normally a lovely shade of chocolate, were now so dark they looked almost black. His look made her shiver. The dressing gown alone could not disguise the reaction of her body to his desire and she closed her eyes.

She heard the water drip as he moved. She felt his breath against her cheek, his hands, wet and trembling, reached for the tie at the base of her throat, revealing more of her flesh to him. He let out a small moan as he felt the generous swell of her breast against his wrist, her skin so warm he could not resist letting his fingers rest there. He had always know she had a generous form, having stolen enough glances at her throughout their acquaintance, but he had never dreamt she’d be so soft. Her flesh positively molded to his fingers as he caressed one breast, drawing a pleased squeal from her when his thumb grazed her nipple.

Elizabeth did not quite know what to do with herself. She pressed her chest into his hand, her fingers tightening in his hair. How they had arrived there, she did not quite remember. The barrier of the bathtub concealed him from her view, even as he leaned forward to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently.

Her reaction, a deep moan in the back of her throat, was nearly his undoing. His manhood, brushing against the rim of the tub, was now painfully engorged. He knew he needed release or he was goin to drag her into the bath with him and take her right here and then. Dear Lord but she tasted glorious. Her mewling sounds as he kept on sucking and kissing the peak of her breast inspired him to run one hand across her midriff, grazing at what he knew would be the most sensitive place of her body.

That drew a rather louder moan from her, which she concealed by burying her face against the side of his head. The way her fingers dug into the nape of his neck, simultaneously relaxing and arousing, spurred him on.

Elizabeth did not know what was happening, only that should he ever stop, she would surely die. The pressure mounting between her thighs was nearly too much to bear. Fleetingly, she remembered reading something of the sort in one of these books. But nothing could have ever prepared her for the feeling of his mouth playing with her skin as he swirled his tongue over her flesh. Of their own accord, her fingers raked down his back. His response was to tighten his arms around her frame, pulling her closer to his mouth as he kept working on her. His fingers — his teasing, skilled fingers! — drew circles on the flesh of her thigh, closer and closer to where the pressure she felt building inside of her.

When she felt his thumb graze that part of her that nobody, herself included, had ever touched, she could not comprehend the pleasure she felt. He moaned her name against her skin, shifting his focus from her nipple to the underside of her other breast. His fingers swirled in the same way his tongue did and when his mouth latched onto her once more, at the same time as his thumb pressed down the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, she felt her belly tremble. The most erotic whimper Darcy had ever heard, echoing low in her throat, escaped her lips and he had to restrain himself from coming.

He knew he had quite possibly given her her very first orgasm. Dropping one last kiss to the delicious flesh of her breast, he looked up at her. Her eyelids drooped to a look of pure pleasure, her lips parted has she attempted to catch her breath, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

« So, » she sighed, her tongue darting over her lips, « that’s what they meant by the Little Death. »

He chuckled, kissing her lips. « Yes my love. »

Elizabeth opened one eye, squinting at him. She was so adorable that he kissed her again. He did not miss the mischievous glint in her eyes, though.

« And tell me, dearest, how does one reciprocate? »

He was not sure he heard her until he felt the pang of pleasure in his loins. Elizabeth did not miss the tightening at the corners of his eyes, telltale signs of desire she had learnt to recognize. Slowly, she lowered herself to the floor once more, settling behind him. The rim of the tub was just high enough for him to comfortably rest his head against her chest. She drew his head against her firmly but gently, leaving him plenty of time to decide her next course of action, just as he had done with her.

Wordlessly, too engrossed in his eyes to ask her question again, she let her hand roam over the wide expanse of his chest, mimicking his earlier motions. He squirmed under her hands, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. She felt his lips pucker just enough to softly kiss the skin under her ear.

« You might have to guide me, my love, » she whispered, softly kissing his forehead.

If she kept his up, Darcy was sure he was going to come far sooner than he wished. He was so accustomed to caring for others that the feeling of her caring for _him_ nearly made him weep. Her hand strayed lower, caressing his stomach. Her fingers, like gossamer wings, stooped below the waterline, finding his hipbone. He could not stop his body from begging her.

She did not seem to need much guidance at all.

He felt the first touch of her fingers on his manhood, her lovely thumb barely grazing the tip of his length. He hissed and she stopped, concerned.

« Was that painful? »

He moaned against her as, out of pure instinct, his hips sought the same sensation again. She took that as a cue to do it again. This time, he could feel himself spill a little onto her fingers. Not that she would notice it, with the cooling water disguising his mishap.

Elizabeth relished her newfound power. He felt so soft in her hands, yet she knew that this was an instrument most maidens were taught to be afraid of. She was merely respectful of its apparent fragility. He had pleasured her so tenderly, touching her only minimally, without once invading her, using his fingers to foster her imagination. She wanted to do the same to him.

Determinedly, she let her hand close around him, increasing the pressure as he begged her to, stopping when she heard him moan deeply again. His hand curved around her neck, tangling in her hair. His kisses felt frantic against her neck. He begged her to move — up and down, as he instructed. Out of pure instinct, she increased her speed as his breaths came more and more ragged, feeling his body tremble against her hand. Not even knowing what she was about, she once more grazed the soft tip, and felt him moan out her name, his hand holding hers again this below the water line.

Without a doubt she knew she had led him over the edge of his own Little Death.

His sighs of pleasure slowed down just enough for him to profess his love for her, in an exhausted whisper. She planted a firm kiss on his lips, allowing him to hold onto her a while longer, until the soft chime of the clock alerted her to the late hour. With one regretful sigh, he let her go, absolutely senseless. She disappeared behind the door, shooting him a cheeky grin.

Staring longingly after her retreating form, Darcy was completely unsure how he was going to fall asleep.


End file.
